Cordial
by Sresla
Summary: It's too cold, too wet - all the things Nienna hates about winter and yet here she is, outside. Just what sort of surprise is she in for?


"Can't we go back inside? It's freezing!" Nienna huddled in her robe and debated about drawing her arms up her sleeves; her fingers felt frozen and they'd only been outside a few minutes. When the other mage hinted at a surprise, she had been eager to follow him, but he failed to warn her about their final destination. Nate, she noted, dressed for the weather – the tread pattern in the snow and the glimpse of dark brown on his feet meant he'd worn heavy leather boots. No doubt he was bundled in layers of clothing beneath his robe too; she decided to test her theory as they crouched behind one of the snow-laden firs. She slipped her arms around him and felt him lean into her embrace.

"Nienna, now might not be the best time…" he whispered, as she worried the buttons on his clothing. "The patrol will be by any minute; once they're gone, we'll have an hour to ourselves," he pointed to a clump of rhododendron, their broad green leaves distinctive in a landscape of white, "and we just have to make it to there."

Ignoring his warning, she slipped her hands inside the garment where they made contact with fleece; she sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. Even being used to manipulating primal energy – including cold – didn't mean she wanted to be outside in inclement weather. She was missing Herbalism class and Jowan would be frantic about where she was, worried their last escapade together had gotten her into trouble.

She felt his intake of breath when her hands slipped lower and allowed herself a smirk. A short while ago, she wouldn't have dreamed of being so aggressive but a few months of being intimate with Nate awakened her libido to the point where her desire often outstripped his. With the way he was behaving now, her original thought of an illicit tryst under the templars' noses looked more and more unlikely – much to her disappointment. She intended to make him pay for getting her hopes up.

_Clank clink clank_; both mages went still as statues. Either it was too cold for the two Templars to try and make conversation or they'd already exhausted their meager supply on this tour of duty. The glossy sheen to the packed snow indicated ice below the light dusting and their pace, accordingly, was slow. Nienna bit her lip as she imagined one of the two men slipping; a fall onto his back would turn him into a giant metal tortoise unable to regain his feet. She couldn't wait to draw a sketch of it and pass it to Jowan in their next class together–

"They're gone. Let's go!" Nate's imperative and sudden motion startled her; she hadn't realized how much of her weight was balanced against the dark-haired mage's back and she began to tumble when he moved. Then, he was there, supporting her by the arm, a wry smile on his face. "I thought elves were supposed to be light on their feet."

Sourly, she shot back, "And I thought all humans were insufferable boors. I suppose it's good at least one of us was right, hmm?"

She expected a swift reprisal; Nate's temper was usually on a short fuse and he didn't take well to insults, or even good-natured ribbing. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and – with a peculiar look on his face – kissed her on the nose. Before she could say anything else, or entice him to make more of the kiss than a peck, he sprinted across the walkway, diving behind the bushes he'd indicated as their destination.

Irritated, Nienna followed. She wasn't used to Nate being _coy_. Arrogant she was familiar with, and he always radiated confidence – but being led on this merry cat-and-mouse chase was new. '_Maybe he's decided turnabout is fair play._' The human mage plied her for months before the two became intimate; he bullied any other prospective partners out of the way until she couldn't help but acknowledge the attraction. She was the envy of every woman in the Tower – so why did she find his behavior so annoying _now_?

Instead of running after him, she trudged across the path, hearing the ice groan under her weight, sullenly determined not to enjoy whatever 'surprise' he concocted. She stepped around one of the spots Nate's footsteps broke through the crust, leaving a jagged hole. '_Too cold, too wet, too…_' Her resolve melted as she rounded the shrubbery. "Ooh…"

A pale cloth was arrayed on the ground, trimmed with a border of scarlet, sprigs of berries and holly embroidered on the four corners. Set in the center was a serving tray containing a decanter of red liquid, two wide-rimmed glasses and several shallow metal bowls, each containing several squares of differently colored chocolate – white, milky and dark brown. Nate was righting a roughly hewn milking stool, one of two in the clearing, having knocked it over in his headlong rush. He dusted off the seat then set it down, gesturing to it with a flourish.

Nienna sat down heavily, still suffering from the shock over what she saw. It was so unexpectedly romantic. '_Does he actually look __**nervous**__?_'

"Do you like it?" Nate shook his head, ridding it of a few stray flakes acquired in his mad dash across the walkway. "That, little lynx," he pointed at bottle, "is _Hare Vişne_ and you don't want to know what I promised to do for Ines, in order for her to hand it over."

"Knowing how you hate the outdoors, I suppose I should thank you for the sacrifice. Unless it isn't weeding her herb garden or categorizing her seed cupboard, in which case – can I watch?"

Nate scowled at her impish grin. "Thank you very much for the mental image. If all you're going to do is joke around, we can forget the whole thing and go back indoors. I didn't realize Herbalism class was that important to you."

"It's not, it's just…" she stopped herself before she could complete the sentence, '_Jowan needs my help._' It would spark an argument – Nate would demand to know who Jowan was, even though the two men had been introduced several times. He never remembered her friend's name and she didn't feel up to facing that particular hurdle at the moment. "I'm just cold. Will the…" she waved a hand to indicate the red liquid, "warm me up?"

The dark-haired mage's face brightened at her renewed interest in their impromptu picnic. He leaned over and picked up the decanter, removing its stopper. "Shut your eyes." Nienna obeyed. She could hear the crunch of his steps as he drew closer. "Now sniff."

She inhaled deeply and gasped in delight. "Cherries! It's like being in an orchard at harvest time!"

She tried taking the bottle from him but he held it too far away; he playfully batted her outstretched hand away. "Watch," he instructed.

Nate knelt on the edge of the cloth, setting the carafe down. He shot her a stern look when she made another grab for it and with a resigned shrug, Nienna relaxed back onto her seat. Touching a finger to the metal bowl containing the milky brown chocolate, he wrinkled his brow in concentration and after a few minutes, the confection began to melt.

'_How long has he been planning this?_' Finesse wasn't Nate's strong suit – she wondered how many pounds of scorched and burned chocolate were sacrificed as he practiced the restraint necessary to melt and not incinerate.

When it achieved a consistency he was satisfied with, the human mage removed his hand and picked up one of the glasses and, with a dip and a quick twirl, coated the rim. By the time he held it up for her inspection, the chocolate – exposed to the freezing temperature – had already hardened again. Pouring a small amount of the cherry cordial into the goblet, he offered it to her. "Better than anything you'll find in a box, I promise."

She sipped; it was ambrosia. The drink embodied everything about her favorite sweet – the liqueur was tart and the chocolate creamy – with the pleasant bite of alcohol underneath. It took all her self-control not to bite down on the lip of the cup; instead, she used her tongue, working her way around the rim, softening the chocolate.

She heard Nate laughing at the spectacle she was making of herself, but she didn't care. "Nienna, there's plenty. Finish that and we can do it again – would you like to try the white this time?"

While Nate restricted himself to sips from a single glass, Nienna couldn't get enough. Eventually she managed to wrangle the bottle away from him and instead of the tiny measures he'd been pouring for her, she filled her cup. "S'good," she said, gesturing with the glass. Liquid splashed, staining the snow – red to pink as it diffused then sloshed back, dousing the front of her clothing. "S'… hot. Aren't you hot?" Another swig drained it and she tossed the glass away; it hit the ground, shattering like a dislodged icicle. "Like summer out here…"

She had a vague memory of being this warm back during August. She and Jowan skipped out on Senior Enchanter Torrin's lesson and lay in the grass, basking in the midday heat. A bird flew overhead, wheeling on the brisk air currents too far above for them to feel. They had talked about freedom, about what it meant. Jowan said something… something about being happy… being happy with her and suddenly the day seemed twenty degrees hotter…

"Like an oven," she said, beginning to peel her robe off, over her head.

"Nienna! What in the Maker's name are you doing?" Nate came over and forced her arms back to her sides, pulling down her robe. "You've had too much. I knew it was strong; it fools you with its sweetness – sort of like you."

He was trying to charm her – no, distract her. Why was he trying to stop her? Oh, she understood! "You first then," she said, squirming out of his grasp. She giggled, tugging at the folds of fabric. She could feel the ties of his breeches beneath – another layer of clothing to frustrate her.

"Nienna, no – stop this. You're not yourself. The Templars–" he tried grabbing at her wrists to restrain her, but Nienna twitched away, "–will be back soon. Let's go back inside. Malie can brew you some of that thyme tea you like."

Did she want to go inside? Nienna hesitated, long enough for Nate to take ahold of her shoulder and the light pressure was enough; it spurred her into action.

"NO!" She twisted away, backing up but the quick movement gave her too much momentum. She felt her leather-soled slippers begin to slide, felt herself begin to fall; it seemed to be happening so slowly and at the same time far too quickly. Nate's complexion turned pale when he realized what was happening and he reached out; Nienna lifted her arm and imagined she felt their fingertips brush against one another. '_Everything's so _white_,_' she thought, right before the loud _crack_ made everything go black.

"Nienna. Nienna? Can you hear me? Say something." the voice implored her. She wanted to tell the voice to go away, to let her sleep; cozy and comfortable, she felt like she was snuggled into one of the downy comforters reserved for the full mages on the second floor. '_I'll lie very still._' For good measure, she held her breath.

"Oh well. She must be dead."

Nienna felt her cheeks tighten into a smile and forced her lips into a frown instead. Being dead, she needed to be solemn. "I guess that means the stash of chocolates behind 'Balms for Protection and Enchantment' is mine now. Damalis might like them; I'll give them to her as a gift, or – no wait. I'll offer to share them on a moonlit walk and then–"

"You'll do no such thing!" Nienna's eyes flew open and she sat up quickly and just as quickly, lay back down; her head spun. She stared at the man sitting next to her. "If you give my chocolates to that cow, Jowan, I will make you sorry we never skipped Senior Enchanter Sweeney's classes and set fire to your–" She blew out through her lips, finally noticing his broad grin. "I hate you."

"You love me," he corrected cheerfully and Nienna felt her chest constrict. "I only said it so you'd stop playing possum – you had us worried!"

'_Us?_' then she remembered; she'd been outside with Nate, drinking the cherry cordial with the name like a rabbit.

Jowan anticipated her next question, "He's gone inside to get help – I think he's looking for Anders. I ran into him coming out of class and he asked me to watch over you. If she wakes up," Jowan changed the pitch of his voice to a passable impression of the other man, "keep her still and calm."

She stuck out her tongue before replying, "And your plan was to tell me you were going to feed _my_ chocolates to _Damalis_?"

He laughed nervously, "Well, what would you have done? It worked, didn't it? Sort of?" He sighed, a slow hiss of air through his teeth as Nienna stifled a giggle. "You're awake, and that's what matters. How are you feeling?"

The elven woman touched her head gingerly, expecting to find a coal-sized lump near the back of her scalp, but aside from the headache, she felt fine. Better than fine – there was no numbness from the cold, no lingering aches from the fall. All she felt was…

"Urgh!" The front of her robe was sopping wet; the syrupy liquid made the fabric cling to her flesh like a second skin and the odor was unmistakably alcoholic.

Jowan followed her gaze. "You'll never get you past the Templars looking – or smelling – like that. Have you ever noticed we've never been taught any _practical_ magic? I can shoot fire from any appendage but when it comes to cleaning my own clothes…"

"So now you want to do chores, along with lessons?" If there was a worse idea, Nienna was certain she'd never heard it.

"It wouldn't be a chore." Unexpectedly, Jowan caressed her cheek with the back of his hand; she felt his knuckles drag along her jaw, sticking in spots where the droplets had landed before they pulled free. His hand trailed down her throat, to the robe's collar where he toyed with the satiny ribbon adorning the neckline. "For example – what if your clothing got torn?" Abruptly, he crooked his fingers and jerked downward; the cloth ripped like butter muslin down to her waist, as if the cordial had rotted the threads for them to part so easily. "If we knew any useful spells, you could mend that with a word."

Confusion warred with embarrassment and outrage; uselessly, Nienna sat up, doing her best to ignore the throb at the base of her skull and tried covering her breasts but the combination of cold plus Jowan's intimate touch meant there was no hiding her reaction, not in the time it took for her to recover and try to shield herself. She let anger burn away her blush and opened her mouth to demand an apology and explanation.

His mouth over hers silenced her protest. Would it have been an objection or a plea for him to continue? She remembered now, the fantasies since the day under the tree – the ones she shoved aside, ignoring them except in those brief moments before she drifted off to sleep at night. It was Jowan's face manifesting in her dreams, not Nate's. It was Jowan she wanted kissing her, touching her, inside of her – and she reciprocated his attention now with that repressed passion. She felt the rumble in his chest – amused laughter at her enthusiasm – and when he drew back, breaking their embrace, it was all she could do not to cling to him possessively.

"We still need to get you cleaned up." The firm pressure on her shoulders encouraged her to lie back – to trust him – so she did, shivering but not from the cold when his lips found the hollow in her throat. He trailed kisses across her chest; his tongue laved one nipple then the other on the continued pretense of removing the cherry liqueur. His feather-light touch combined with her ticklishness and unrequited lust made it impossible for her to stay still; she writhed against him as he moved lower, past her navel.

A tearing sound and she was completely naked; she shrugged out of the remains of her garment and it took only a gentle nudge for her to spread her legs eagerly for him, moaning in anticipation.

"Keep her quiet, can't you?"

"What do you want me to do? Gag her? She's hurt! Nienna, you're going to be okay. Anders is here – he's going to heal you."

"Andraste's tits, she smells like a still. How much did you let her drink, you moon-brained idiot? She can't be more than eight stone and she stinks like she drank her weight in cherry wine. You're just not very bright, are you."

The two male voices continued to argue overhead and Nienna squinched her eyes tighter, as if keeping them closed would let her block them out. She knew they were worried, she heard it – the way the they sniped back and forth, taking out their anxiety on one another – but that didn't mean she wanted to return to the reality they represented yet she couldn't wish herself back to unconsciousness.

'_It felt so real…_' She was glad she'd spilled the cordial, glad she smelled like a brewery, because she was certain its scent masked her own musky arousal. '_Jowan._' She knew – had known – since that fateful summer's day. For months she denied it; she would have sworn an oath on the Sacred Ashes to anyone she and Jowan were only friends, albeit the best of friends, and nothing more. But her dreams became more vivid and the Fade was now a temptation because it promised her what she hadn't wanted to actively seek out – too afraid of losing her closest friend, too afraid of rejection for her to risk taking a chance. '_I love him._'

* * *

><p>Hm. Since I was uploading anyway, I realized I'd never published the prequel to 'Ambition' which deals with the aftermath of Nienna's realization here in 'Cordial'. It was originally a slightly late Christmas present for drathe on deviantART, featuring her original characters Nienna Surana &amp; Nate Amell, with a side helping of Dream Jowan (or was it a Desire Demon in disguise?) It was the first time I'd tried writing from a female character's standpoint (aside from a single chapter with Leliana but Zevran pretty much took it over) so I consider this a learning experience and hope you won't judge me too harshly (Ironic, because the next upload I'm going to do also stars drathe's characters and is written from a female point of view as well. Has there been improvement? Probably not!) Since there's such a long gap of time between when the two take place, I figure it's alright to publish them as self-contained, complete stories.<p>

Nienna and Nate belong to drathe and Jowan and Anders belongs to Bioware. Feedback is welcome and encouraged (criticism is just as valued as praise).

I'd give all my worldly goods (and my soul, if they'd take it) to Bioware and David Gaider in exchange for Zevran being mine (all mine!), but until they accept my "offer", all rights to their characters and the Dragon Age universe belong to them. Thank you, DG, for creating Zevran – in all my years of playing MUDs, MUSHs, RPGs and MMOs, he's the only character who ever inspired me to write anything (such as it is - and even when he's not in the story, he's my inspiration).


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